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The
Foundation was essentially his bosses’ bosses—the financial and
political overseers of Earth and curators of its relationship with
the other joint Meraladian-Earthworlder planets in the union. And
if they wanted to get involved in this, there may be more dangerous
implications to this ritual than previously thought.
    “Jack,” he said, with all the pleasantry he
could muster at that moment, which honestly wasn’t much. “I admit I
wasn't expecting you here so soon.”
    Jack nodded with a smile equally lacking in
emotion, and offered no explanation for his arrival. “This little
event took the CNF quite by surprise, Governor.”
    Anton nodded slowly. “Took us all by
surprise, Jack. No doubt about that.”
    “I intend to find out who is behind it,
sir,” he said in a quiet but forceful voice. That was Jack; no
pretense. “I've set up here on the thirty-ninth floor. When you
have the chance, I would like to discuss the situation and what
your plans, if any, may be.”
    Anton hid his annoyance. If any? “I’ll do so as soon as I can,” he said. “In fact, I’ll be holding a
special session of the Provincial Governor’s Council later on
today, either late morning or early afternoon, depending on when
this all calms down and when the others get in or sign on. It’ll be
in the same place we usually meet, in the Andiri Room. You’ll be
there?”
    Jack frowned as he nodded. “Yes…yes, I’ll be
there, sir. Thank you.”
    Anton glanced down the hall momentarily. Now
was a good time to escape. “Listen — I’m going to be hiding in my
office for the next few hours to get some work done. Give me a call
some time later this morning, and we’ll go over everything we have
so far, get this all straightened out. Sound good to you?”
    Jack nodded. “It’s a plan, sir. I’m listed
on the vidcam directory if you need me.”
     
    Hours later, Anton stood at the window and
watched the dawn trace the long shadow of the Mirades Tower across
Bridgetown. The buildings and complexes below him stood
majestically and silently, bathed in the crimson-yellow of an
autumnal sunrise, waiting for the new day to begin. An orange BMPD
helicopter buzzed the Tower in front of him at a close but
respectable distance, following its usual path of morning rounds.
It acknowledged the Tower aviation control beacon with the
repetitive single click of its undercarriage light, a sign of no
emergency.
    No emergency, Anton thought
skeptically. He craned his neck and looked up as far as he could
into the blue, cloudless sky. The crimson fog, whatever it had
been, had dissipated as the night wore on and now there was no sign
it had ever been there in the first place. He’d barely seen it
himself, unable to see much of anything between the dark evening
sky and the beacons of light shooting off the Tower’s antenna
array. Perhaps a slight discoloration of the air, which he’d at
first attributed to his imagination and lack of sleep. It had only
lasted for about two and a half hours, and by four in the morning
it had completely vanished.
    Believing the threat to be over for the time
being, he’d holed himself up in his private office and caught a
half hour’s rest on his couch. It wasn’t much, no more than a
catnap, but it was enough for him to rest his eyes and calm his
nerves. He’d scheduled a meeting of his provincial council to
commence as soon as all members had arrived or at least had logged
in, and by five that morning they’d gathered in the Andiri Room on
the eighty-first floor. About half of the members and guests, Jack
Priestley included, had arrived in house, the others joining via
vidmat. He hadn’t planned on making any progress with this initial
meeting; this was more about intelligence gathering and getting
everyone on the same page. A lot of disparate rumors had been
shuffled back and forth throughout the evening, and he needed to
weed out all the false leads as early as possible before he could
make any further